tinhuvielartanis: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.



This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul



11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.



21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter



31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.




41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.








51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.







61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?



71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)
Here's the biog, which can also be seen on my Amazon page. <--- click for that link magick to happen. No html fuckery was allowed for this, so things that should be in bold or italics are not. Sorry about that.

Tracy Angelina Evans was born on 10 September, 1967, in Asheville, North Carolina, into a small family that had more in common with the Addams Family than the Waltons. Her father was a slightly off-center Jack of all artistic trades (radio DJ, photographer, writer, journalist, singer/songwriter, comic, and Japanese commercial actor - go figure), so it was convenient that his nickname was Jack. Her mother is a first generation Hippie, who adores artistic/crafty endeavours, reading, watching horror movies, and anything to having to do with nature and the animal kingdom. Her grandparents were Big Band Jazz musicians and singers (maternal grandparental units), painters and storytellers (paternal grandmother unit), and CIA operatives (paternal grandfather unit) in what was then West Germany. She was raised by her eccentric aunt, Tudi, and paternal grandmother unit in Asheville and, later, in Duncan, SC. She began artistic pursuits at the age of 4, when her grandmother told her to go draw flies. Too young to get the joke, her first pictures were of flies. The spiders came later to eat the overpopulation of flies. Webs were really fun to draw. She began writing animals stories around the age of 7, but switched to human-centered sci-fi stories at 13, when she heard the Electric Light Orchestra's album, Time.

Language and mythology became an important part of Tracy's education at an early age, and she was fascinated with religion. Early on, she wanted to be a preacher, but was told only men could do that. Then she wanted to be a nun, going around with a towel held to her head with a plastic mixing bowl to signify her cornette, but was told only Catholics could do that. Her mother was Jewish and her father was a non-practicing Southern Baptist, so the natural progression from these lofty origins, along with the dashing of original spiritual aspirations because of denomination and gender, is for the offspring to embrace Pagan and Pantheist philosophies, which became intertwined with her sci-fi sensibilities, the music prevalent in her life, and what little she could grasp of actual science, particularly physics and psychology.

In her junior year of high school, she chose to do a research paper on anti-Utopian societies, or Dystopian worlds, using A Brave New World and 1984 as the frame work for her paper. This turned her into a conspiracy theorist and affected the general tone of her writing from then on. During this time, too, she began building a personal myth around an ancient alien race that came to Earth before the rise of humanity. Part of the process of this creation was the invention of a new language, based loosely on the Indo-European family of languages with a hint of Finno-Ugric. (How, really, did two countries so far apart from one another end up sharing a root language, anyway? Finland? Hungary? What say you?)

At the age of 19, Tracy's genuine love of music, combined with her knowledge of a wide variety of musical genres, gave her the opportunity to work in the music industry starting in 1987. She left Wofford College to pursue this career. For almost a decade, she literally (using the correct definition of the word) got paid to sit and listen to music, during which she was allowed to read, write, draw, or anything else that did not deter from her job in the quality assurance department of what was then BMG/RCA Music Service. Another nine years with the company saw her going into music promotions, which drove her clinically mad.

Her Tarmian mythology got a metaphysical shot in the arm when Tracy began studying ancient Pagan religions and dabbling in the then still fresh New Age philosophies in 1990 and going forward.

Also in 1990, she discovered what would become her favourite music band, Shriekback. They would end up having a profound effect on every aspect of her own artistic endeavours. Thanks to her entering the virtual world of the Internet in 1998, she got to eventually meet some members of the band, and help to promote them and their music since 2000. They were kind enough to allow her to use lyrics from their songs as chapter lead-ins for her books.

After the death of her aunt in 2011, Tracy moved to San Diego to be closer to her mother, taking with her, her non-human friends Smidgen (a giant cat with a partially erect furry penis for a tail) and Toby (an obnoxious deer Chihuahua who had been abandoned at the veterinary hospital for which she briefly worked as a Vet Assistant), her music, book, and DVD collections, a few clothes, and her computer.

She is quite active online, maintaining a 12-year-old blog on Live Journal, called The Cliffs of Insanity, and sharing amusing and/or infuriating bits of info and images on her Facebook page. Besides writing and devouring copious amounts of music, she enjoys drawing badly, and is trying to learn how to use an art tablet. She also loves to read, watch movies (any genre but romance), make videos for You Tube (some vids for Shriekback, some vids to share songs that might not otherwise be available, like the more obscure Celtic folk tunes of Dougie MacLean and Talitha MacKenzie, and some funny bits and bobs, like The Tim Roth Tutorials), going to drum circles on the weekend to work out her djembe and get a contact high, and enthusiastically waiting for the End of the World. Over the past few years, comedy has also become of great import to her mental health. There's a reason why we have the cliché "laughter is the best medicine."

Tracy has a strong affinity for non-human Earthlings (camelids, reptiles, birds, and mantids, in particular) and was involved in cat rescue for some time in Duncan, SC. At one point, she was seeking homes for about thirty cats she had tamed and nursed back to health, earning her the title of Crazy Cat Lady in her neighbourhood. (All the cats were re-homed.) She has worked to rehabilitate many species, including a hypoglycaemic hummingbird, a family of opossums to whom she gave epic Nordic names for no reason whatsoever, and a variety of lizards. She is in love with a planet she sees aching under the yoke of human oppression, and would do anything to see that change. She claims to be a professional misanthrope, which is most often channelled into Cadmus Pariah, but she likes you. To the best of her knowledge, her lineage includes Welsh, Scottish, English, Jewish, Dutch, Hungarian, African, and Cherokee genes, making her a class A mongrel.

After years of change and countless reassessments of her belief system, Tracy is now more comfortable with the concept of Jungian archetypes and how they are recurring themes throughout human history. As it stands at the time of this writing, she's working on a fourth Vampire book, she's still a diehard Star Wars/Star Trek sci-fi/fantasy nerd, an apostle of JRR Tolkien's and Robert Anton Wilson's, an opinionated grouch, and a constant victim of synchronicity, which tends to spread the wealth of weirdness with anyone in close proximity. She has a short list of heroes that include Jeff Lynne, Carl Jung, Barry Andrews, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Starhawk. She is also one of the 14 remaining people on Earth who dislikes Joss Whedon and that for which he stands, and has actually lost friends because of her opinion. If she had her druthers, Tracy would move to Avebury, Wiltshire, and groove on the ley lines' vibrations for the rest of her life.

She's absolutely certain that she is uncertain about everything, and that is most certainly a statement loaded with uncertainty.




At Buckingham Palace in 2006.
tinhuvielartanis: (PSA)
So I went to see the incredibly handsome Dr. Pilch today. He changed my migraine medicine from Relpax to Maxalt, but wouldn't prescribe the hydrocodone that I typically take with the migraine medicine, still insisting that I need a pain management doctor for that. I've yet to be successful with that, so even though I told him I could not afford to continue going to urgent care each time I have a migraine, he said sorry, and sent me on my way.

When I have a full-blown migraine, it is crippling. I am not exaggerating. I can't get up without falling down. I can't see properly. I can't think. I am completely useless, moreso than usual. So I figure if I have a migraine that makes me feel like I'm dying, I'm not gonna take the migraine medicine, and I'm gonna see if the headache kills me. Hell, I might be having mini-strokes. Whatever it is, que sera sera, or however it's spelled.

One cool thing about the Maxalt: It's made in Swindon! I've concluded that nothing but groovy things come from Swindon. I wish I could visit there, but that's not gonna happen. I can't even visit the convenience store up the road unless I walk about two miles up there. They're open 24 hours a day, though, so I may try to make the journey in the middle of the night, and hope for the best.

I wish I could be more like [livejournal.com profile] popfiend.
tinhuvielartanis: (Barry Interview)
The first Illuminati song I heard, it was released on the tribute album to the late Kevin Wilkinson in 2000 (if memory serves). The lyrics on this one were a Beast but Khanada, Trista, and B pulled ranks and won the day, so all's well that end's welll.

Photos used in the video are of the Yew trees at St. James Abson (see link in You Tube info), taken in May of 2006, I think a day or two at most before meeting B. So yeah, just a teeny personal Easter Egg to mark a moment. Sort of like the instantly recognisable "leopard yawns with breath like flowers" pic I made for "Big Sharp Teeth."

Anyways, go have a looksee/listen. We hopes you enjoys it, Precious.

Good Day

May. 25th, 2011 05:50 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Cadmus - Long Hair)
After 25 years of searching, I found my favourite Paul Young song. It's called "Ku-Ku Kurama" and it's just a totally quirky New Wave classic. I adore it.

After over a month of waiting and sitting here with $.42 to my name, which was appropriate since it's Towel Day, my retro SSI was deposited into my bank account. I can now pay my bills and actually live like a person with some dignity from now on. If everything turns out okay and I have enough dough left over, I'm taking a trip to England to see [livejournal.com profile] falkenna, [livejournal.com profile] paulpearson23, and Barry Andrews.

Speaking of Barry Andrews, I've been listening to "Despite Dense Weed" quite a bit today and realised that I'm exactly like Shenzi when it comes to this song and to Barry in general. The Shrieks give me the shivers, but I can't help but come back for more despite my fright. Barry is my Mufasa. Who'da thunk?

I'm almost ready to write more on "The Braid." I'm thinking of changing the mystery of Vampire's name from Molybdenum to Gethsemane. I think it has a lovely ring to it, and there is no indication of gender with the name. The name is also mentioned in a Stic Basin song, so there you go.

I've been out of Lyrica for a few days, so I've been in a bit of Fibro pain of late. My prescription was delivered to the house today, so I'm now Lyrica'd and joyful that I'm no longer paralysed with pain. That's always a good thing.

If I'm lucky, I'll be taking a picture of a baby opossum that has been visiting the cat food tray every night. He's about the size of my hand, and he's so cute. His hiss is so quiet, you can barely hear it, but he's getting used to my presence, so I think it'll be okay to take a couple of pictures without scaring him tonight.

Right now, I'm listening to "Sexthinkone" by Shriekback. It's one of Carl Marsh's classics. I've come to appreciate Carl Marsh a great deal more than I used to. His contribution to the Shrieks is invaluable.

I finally broke down and joined Tumblr. I'm Tinhuviel over there. I'm thinking of posting pictures of actors I want to play my various characters from The Vampire Relics. I think that'd be pretty interesting and, who knows? The actors I want may actually contact me and show an interest in the books.
tinhuvielartanis: (Cymru)
A couple of years ago, I heard that it may be possible to live overseas and still draw disability. If this is the case, I am hying myself to England or Wales as quickly as I possibly can. Of course, I'm taking Aunt Tudi with me and will have to wait the six months to quarantine the beasties. Ideally, I'd like to live in the West Country because it's the most inspirational for me. Avebury, Swindon, some village near Stonehenge. Anywhere. I'm not picky, as long as it's the UK. Rhyl, Cymru would be cool too. The mythical land of Rhylla, the land of the Tarmi, comes from Rhyl.

I've already written the Federal Benefits Unit in London to get information regarding this. If this turns out to my favour, my status as an expatriate will be official as soon as humanly possible. What a dream come true it would be to go back home to the UK, be amongst friends, and find in the countryside my true heart.
tinhuvielartanis: (Gothtin)
A picture of Avebury in the Winter. This is such a beautiful village and it's so full of Earth energy. The stone circles just vibrate with Magick. I miss this place like an ache in my soul.

Photobucket
tinhuvielartanis: (Barry Interview)
Aunt Tudi and I went to Horizon to sell some CDs and books, just to be on the safe side, to stay afloat. I'm not nearly as ambivalent about selling my music as I used to be, thanks to the wonderful power of iPodery. I'm all "here's my tunes, but I still got them, la la la." Horizon is attached to a place called the Bohemian Cafe. Since Aunt Tudi and I had been out most all day, we decided to pop into the cafe for something to drink. What we found on the menu, though, almost made me have a hissy fit. In the appetizers was the house cheese platter, featuring Drunken Goat Cheese, Sage Cheese, and ... STILTON APRICOT CHEESE. I've been wanting Stilton Cheese since May of 2006. That's four years, dude, four long years. While Gene looked through what we had to sell, Aunt Tudi and I treated ourselves to the cheese platter. Even Aunt Tudi liked the Stilton Cheese. She just didn't like the sausages I guess. We immersed ourselves in cheesy goodness, garnished with crackers. Aunt Tudi drank coffee and I had an blackberry Italian soda. Heaven. Absolute heaven. If we ever have the fundage for another round at the Bohemian Cafe's cheese, we are so going back.

Moving

Sep. 6th, 2010 12:25 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (T and B)
I've been dreaming a lot of moving from the Armpit back to Asheville, or to England. The English dreams are much more vivid. I put most everything I own into storage and have two cases and a dufflebag to begin my new life. I've arranged to stay at a hotel in Swindon, where [livejournal.com profile] falkenna is there to share the room and teach me the English way of life. Neither Aunt Tudi nor the animals are in this dream. It's like I'm a free bird, who's flown home. I check the papers for rooms or cottages available in Avebury and yammer with [livejournal.com profile] falkenna that I need to cross paths with Stuart Rowe and Barry Andrews before leaving Swindon. It's all so very real and surreal at the same time. This is an instant where a dream truly is nothing but just that ~ a dream.
tinhuvielartanis: (T and B)
I haven't proofread one damned word today. Personally, I think it may be some sort of psychological block that, once I've proofed the manuscript, the trilogy will actually be over. It's like sending your kid off to boarding school or your pet to a kennel for an extended period of time. I've lived with and loved so many of these characters for so long, I'm really not certain what I'll do without them. I guess I could write some drabbles and have Vampire short-story book, but I don't want something like that to be a detriment to the trilogy as a whole.

I could be doing the song-by-song for Barry, but I haven't the words for that yet. I still need to give the songs more of an intensive listen. Plus, he sprang an unexpected song on me just today, thus increasing the work, and this isn't even the songs that Carl is contributing. Someday, I'm gonna have to sit down with Mr. Marsh and enlighten him as to his influence on my naming my main Relics character. I think he'll be amused. He seems quite the affable sort. Martyn is the shy one. Dave is intimidating. And Barry is Barry.

Two bananas. Two bananas and some peanut butter are what I've had to eat since 5 this morning. I'd go for something more substantial, but I cannae be sussed. Every time I think of food, I go all o_0 and say "noooo thank youuu..." But I'd pinch you for some french fries right now. Chip-style on the Brighton coastline. Ohhhhh, I miss England! I could subsist on their sausages and chips until I die of artery cloggage (<---new word). I want to eat the Salmon of Knowledge avec le sauce hollaindaise. Instead, I'll drink rootbeer and think of Paul wishing he could get some. It's not fair. We should all have the opportunity to obtain the things we wish to have.

There is a kebab place down the street now. I'll have to check it out if I ever get any bloody money! The place is called Doner Kebab and it's a little kiosk set up right in front of Ingles grocery. It intrigues me because it reminds me of the food kiosks in England.

I swear, I'm more homesick for England now than I was in 2006. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna says it gets no better. I just want my writing career to take off so I can run off to the West Country and write to my heart's content. I'd be willing to make just about any sacrifice to make that happen.

Home

Apr. 29th, 2010 05:29 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Luthien Tinuviel)
[livejournal.com profile] brujah prompted me with this: Describe the word home, the feelings associated with it, and the people and places you pin to the word.

Wow, this is deep.

Home, to me, is a place where I can embrace my inner naturalists without fear of retribution. Yes, I run about nekkid a lot at home, so shut up. But home in the deeper sense of the word speaks to me in the sounds of the ocean and the whisper of faint breezes. Home is never too hot that it sucks out your will to live and never too cold that you feel as though the grave haunts your very breath. It sings of rolling hills that could easily hide Hobbit holes and honoured tombs of heroes long forgotten by the loveless ones. It's a land that harbours soft-spoken artists and echoes of merry laughter at any whim it fancies.

In 2006 I visited my home. It was England, My Lionheart. Someday, I'll make it back, but my ticket will only be one way.

A Cuppa

Mar. 14th, 2010 09:09 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Super Sane T)
I awoke, fed the dogs, gave Aunt Tudi her insulin shot, then put on a pot of hot water.

This is a tradition in the Evans household. We always feed the dogs, attend to the the medicine, then prepare the water for a cuppa. Aunt Tudi drinks coffee. I have tea. For some time now, thanks to [livejournal.com profile] gunslingaaahhh, I've had Earl Grey Tea. This tea makes me homesick for Britain. I can see myself getting up in the morning, coming down the narrow stairs, tromping through the living room and into the kitchen. I'd make sure the cats had food and put the tea kettle on. While I waited for the water, I'd butter some toast. The kettle would whistle and I'd start the process of steeping the tea while I waited on the toast. Once the tea and toast was ready, I'd repair to the living room to check email, pet the cats, listen to some music, and drink my tea.

This would inspire me to write on my book and be all English and whatnot.

I don't know. I'm dreaming. I so desperately want to live in the West Country, it's utterly ridiculous. I want to hear the ice cream man come by playing the theme song for Monty Python. I want to practice rituals on the Uffington White Horse and meditate after climbing the Giant's Stair. I thought the feeling would fade with time. But it's been almost four years now and my longing is deeper and more intense than ever.

And all this grows with a cuppa tea each morning.
tinhuvielartanis: (Default)
On Thursday, Aunt Tudi and I had the fortune of meeting up with [livejournal.com profile] falkenna, [livejournal.com profile] janalyson, [livejournal.com profile] paulpearson23, and Jan's daughter Jennifer. We met up at the Espresso Cafe for coffee. Everyone had some sort of coffee except for Tallis (she had Chai) and me (I had root beer ~ no caffeine). Tallis and Paul were in from England and her sister Jan and Jennifer were driving them about for various holiday festivities. This was the first time Tallis had been back in the States for Christmas in 25 years, so it was a particularly monumental time for her. They're here through the first week of the new year I do believe.

We talked about all sorts of things: England, SC, NC, naked mole rats, The Joker Blogs, centipedes, millipedes, medications, The Blood Crown, Barry Andrews (I bet his hears were burning off!), young Finn, and Aunt Tudi read her poetry...which gave the place a real coffee house vibe. And Tallis and Paul gave me a gift. Paul named him and I had to draw lips on him to make him the new mascot for the First Church of the Alpaca Lips. Behold Barack Ollama, the mascot for the Alpaca Lips!

barackollama



We yapped, yammered, and chattered until one of the coffee house staff came up and told us they were closing and we had to leave, so we were essentially kicked out. Ha! But we got in about three good hours of fellowship and bonding so that's really cool. It was great to see them all again and it made me really homesick for England. I had to watch Mr. Brooks, even though I have the song on iTunes, so I could hear young Finn at the end of the movie. Even though I've never met him, I feel like I know the kid. When...not if...when I go back to England (for good), I'll meet him, and I'll hang out with Tallis and Paul more often than than a few hours every three or four years.

The Aching

Jul. 28th, 2008 05:41 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Herne_Moon)
A day doesn't pass that I don't miss England. But some days are worse than others. Today is such a day. The journey I made to England was more than a mere holiday. It was a religious pilgrimage, a trip to reconnect with old friends, and a quest to face and (at least try to) allay "ridiculous fears." May 2006 will forever reside in a precious sanctuary in my heart. I carry the treasure of England within me, kindling the flame therein for the time I can allow it to burn brightly upon my return to my true home.

Unlike a lot of people who travel to a "foreign" land, I suffered no culture shock in the least. It was like I fell naturally into the ebb and flow of life in England, and I actually had a harder time readjusting to life here in the States after only a week and a few days of being gone. Honestly, I'm still having adjustment issues two years after the fact. I was irreversibly changed by England and the experiences She gave to me. There's no way I'll ever be able to sufficiently repay [livejournal.com profile] falkenna for her opening her door to Aunt Tudi and me, making it possible for me to take a trip I would otherwise have been unable to take.

England is expensive, more so now than when Aunt Tudi and I visited, mainly thanks to the poor showing of American currency. There's no way I could have afforded to go had it not been for [livejournal.com profile] falkenna's abundant hospitality and her willingness to cart her wide-eyed friend hither and yon. To be able to take safe harbour in a wholly Pagan house was a true blessing in and of itself. And to meet and face my Greatest Fear whilst cradled in sacred space was incredibly fortunate for me.

The next time I go to England, it will be to stay. I've already decided on that. I'm not certain where I'll eventually settle, but I do know I'm welcome in a number of places (Brighton, Suffolk, Swindon, and London). I want to visit or revisit them all and connect to my friends, whom I consider also my family. More than likely, though, I'll probably find a permanent home in Wales, on the West Coast, where past life memories call out to me and make the aching for Home a tangible entity. I know that [livejournal.com profile] falkenna is keen on my visiting Scotland and I definitely have a need to go there, but Wales lives in me on a literal cellular level. When it's time to turn in, come the evening, I want to draw my shutters on a Welsh world.

For now, though, I have to see to my everyday duties of life and work toward that day when I say goodbye to America for good, returning to England to ease that ache of homesickness that never quite leaves me, and never will until my feet land once more on British soil.
tinhuvielartanis: (Union Jack Wave)
We had to be up early as our flight out was at 11:56 AM and we had to be at the airport 2 hours prior for, for lack of a better word, processing. 7 AM came too soon for someone who last looked at the clock a mere two hours before. I was beaten down and Aunt Tudi was worse than me, her spine snapped in at least 14 places thanks to all the mad travel. It would have been nice to stay put for a couple more days just to recover from it all and spend more time with [livejournal.com profile] falkenna. We didn't even clean up much, deciding to impose our misery upon our fellow passengers, especially if any of them had small children with little to no parental supervision. A pox on all their houses I say! Yea and verily.

Right before we left for Gatwick, I came through on my promise to [livejournal.com profile] falkenna to sing for her. After doing that and getting all verklempt with [livejournal.com profile] falkenna, we hit the road right on time. The security at Gatwick was seriously more forgiving than at any American airport. I thought I heard one of the employees tell a passenger to not forget his semi-automatic. That's not true. I'm kidding. But, seriously, Aunt Tudi had no problem getting through security at Gatwick. Everyone was kind and understood that she was a disabled woman who wore orthopaedic shoes.

We said our last goodbyes to [livejournal.com profile] falkenna and climbed aboard the airplane for the long flight home.

As far as security, everything changed when we got to Cleveland. I had no problem, but Aunt Tudi, because she was wearing thick-soled shoes and riding in an airport wheelchair, was taken to one side and frisked so much that everyone had to have a cigarette afterward. Once we got through that, we had to go through customs. It wasn't a problem except for the wait. After that, it was time to make the long trek to our gate. We had 30 minutes. The airport employee who was pushing Aunt Tudi had had a hip replacement and carried himself with an atrocious limp, but he was so fast I literally had to scamper along to keep up. Imagine my dismay when we passed a Ben & Jerry's kiosk and I saw that they were selling........

WAVY GRAVY


Yes, they'd resurrected the flavour and had it featured in the Cleveland airport. I couldn't stop to buy any then because I had to keep up with Mecha-Wheelchair-Man. Once we got to our gate, I told Aunt Tudi I was going back for some Wavy Gravy. I only had 10 minutes and the kiosk was, oh...a mile and a half away! But I was willing to take the risk. I flagged down one of the electric carts and he had me to the B&J place in no time. I bought two pints. YES, TWO PINTS. And I ran back to our gate only to find that our flight had been delayed because the attendant that was to be on our plane was on another delayed flight.

So Aunt Tudi and I slurped on Ben & Jerry's Wavy Gravy for an hour until we could finally fly the friendly skies again. It was well after 6 PM EST and we were both running on 2 hours sleep for the past 36 hours, or thereabout. We were only a little over an hour away from home and, boy howdy, we were ready to get there! The flight was uneventful. Both of us tried to snooze a little, but it just didn't work out. I've never been so happy to land at GSP.

I called Janice to let her know we'd just landed and she headed our way to pick us up, but she got caught in a traffic jam on I-85, so we had to wait a while outside for her to arrive. When she did, I had to fight hugging her and kissing my car. I really really really REALLY needed to get home. On the way, we stopped at a convenience store for a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and a box of macaroni and cheese.

Once home, I made us the mac & cheese and then we both passed flat out.

I know it sounds like I was happy to get home and away from England, but that can't be further from the truth. I just wanted to lie the fuck down! I was tired and low on psychic energy. I could live in England, no doubt about it. Moreso, I could live in Wales! But I couldn't think about any of that on the 18th of May. All that was on my mind was collapsing in my bed and falling into a coma.

So ends my Travel Journal for the England trip. As Eddie Izzard would say, "I do like to end the show with a kind of 'Oh' feeling, and I think I've done that quite well."

tinhuvielartanis: (Union Jack Heart)
Wednesday 17 May, 2006

At night the city is no more full of dreams than at any other time. That's where people go wrong. They think that the daytime city, full of money and work and people who know where they're going, is the real one. But I look all the time for the real city, and I know it's not as simple as that. It's not simple at all. You might think you might find it by digging holes or staring at the pavement, but it's not there in the mud and stone and brick. The real city is alive and breathing. You can look for it in the buildings, in the way they're built and why, and how they look in the light; what someone called the spectacle organised by architecture. But how could that be the real city? The real city is not organised by anyone. It just uses certain places to make itself seen, and the best architects know this and don't overreach themselves. I don't know about the people. They seem to be living some great truth, like the dance of atoms and, of course, it's not anything they understand individually. But still, you could investigate them, follow a few threads of their lives, their friends and those they work with. You could even find out what remains of their ancestors, and you'd be no closer to the thing that moves and connects them. It is that which gives me a feeling I've never known before. I'll call it a religious feeling, 'cos I've no other word for it. When I see all of this, this city, full of light and sound, and there's so much that you can't even imagine knowing all of it, so beautiful and so hideous all at once. It's then I start to think there might be a new god that only lives in cities. It's not every day you discover a new god, especially such a powerful, ambivalent one. Sometimes a drunken, stinking, dangerous god, certainly. But still, the correct response to a god, or goddess, any kind, is worship. I don't care what anyone says, and that's what I want to do. I feel like Saint Joan must have felt when she heard her voices: like a blasphemer. But I think we could do with more gods, not less, and I'll take that chance. And, of course, the presence of a god makes the city a sacred place, which is what I always felt anyway. Look at it, just look at it. How could it not be?
Shriekback "3am (Search for the Naked City)"
written by Barry Andrews with London in mind.


I understood this on a certain level long before I came to London. I caught of sense of it when I went to New York City my first time, when I was six years old. And, although Asheville is a mere speck in the scheme of things when compared to cities like NYC and London, I felt a deep connection with the soul of my home town, and still do when I'm fortunate enough to visit. I even wrote a poem that predates Sacred City by six or seven years called "The City Sings" (under the pen name Mahalia Bergestonian, my Jewish Gospel alter-ego.....long story.....), and it expresses the same sentiment as does the concept album, but on a less eloquent and mature level. So I related to the message of the album until I entered into London...and then I grokked Sacred City.

The Barnes Cottage )

When we came back in from the garden, Nick produced a map of all the London bus routes and gave [livejournal.com profile] falkenna some tips on how to get where we wanted to go. We got Aunt Tudi in the wheelchair and headed down to one of the local shops to purchase day passes for the bus. After that, we hopped on the bus to Westminster and began our day in London.

The Touristy Bits )

[livejournal.com profile] falkenna texted Barry earlier to let him know we were in London. He texted back to let us know he was in the throws of family issues and couldn't get away at the moment, but he'd try later on and would let us know. That was around 3 PM. It was now around 5 PM, so we decided to make our way to Whitechapel in order to beat the traffic and ensure that we weren't late for the Ripper Walk, which began at 7 PM. We were all parched and hungry, so we popped into a pub nearby and got us some beverage and Chicken Yakatori. Basically, it tasted like chicken teriyaki on sticks that is, chicken teriyaki kebabs. Verily, did we all nosh with enthusiasm. We left the pub around 6:30 and hopped the bus to the place where the Ripper Walk was to commence. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna checked her phone and had a message from Barry saying that he was exhausted and was sorry to bail on us, but he needed to go home. Ah well, such is life. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could have handled going on a Jack the Ripper walking tour with Barry Andrews. There's something not quite kosher about the mere idea of it. No. ::wibbles::

In the Jungle of the Senses, Tinkerbell and Jack the Ripper.... )

We arrived back at the cottage around 11 PM, tired, wet, and a little on edge. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna hates the city and Aunt Tudi isn't too very fond of large cities herself. Me? I could have stayed there and wandered about forever....just not in Whitechapel, dig.

We told Stevie and Nick about our day and, somehow, the conversation became a debate about the difference in British and American aid to the poor or disenfranchised. This was perpetrated by the edgie duet themselves, [livejournal.com profile] falkenna and Aunt Tudi. Me? I just sat there and gave Stevie and Nick the "roly eyeball" and twiddled my thumbs. When Midnight struck, we bid the men adieu and headed back to Brighton.

It was nigh onto 2 AM when we got home. Even though I was tired, I was also energised by the presence of the city in my mind. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna was perplexed that a misanthrope such as myself could enjoy being in such a vastly populated place. I tried to explain that it wasn't the people necessarily, but the human energy over all. To me, London was like a gigantic organism with a very thin epidermis that one can ease through to find the wonders therein. A city that large, like New York, which falls into this category, but not as strongly as London, at some point no longer depends on humans as individuals; rather, it is its own Being, powered by the energy drawn from the human whole from which it feeds. It's a living thing filled with mysteries waiting patiently to be discovered by the right explorer. I hope to someday go back and do just that, be an explorer of the greater mysteries. I'll leave [livejournal.com profile] falkenna and Aunt Tudi behind, and they'll thank me for it, 'cos they're just not cut out for roaming about and watching to see what happens. Give them the countryside and they will be happy.

After eating a bite, we all bid each other a good night, and Aunt Tudi and I retired to our room to pack for the trip home the next day.

The final chapter, hopefully later on today, after I've gotten a couple hours of sleep....good god it's 4:10 in the morning! Kill me now.
tinhuvielartanis: (Bazzer)
Sea theory in the disco
One of many theories of the sea
Everybody's songs are never-ending till they're gone
Carve a little pleasure out of me.

sea theory )

Graham is in his 30s, but he looks like a 20-something. I felt really guilty that I found him so adorable, thinking that I was robbing the cradle, if only in my mind. I felt much better having found out he wasn't much younger than I. Once we'd hooked up with Graham, B suggested we go to a pub, so off we went. nickleback, keyboards and fellini )

We found ourselves at the Fortune of War pub. The music in there was mind-numbingly loud. We found the quietest spot in the pub, but that's not saying much. Nick bought the first round of drinks, then Barry. I had Guinness, like I do. We made toasts and drank like little fishies while we chattered about all manner of stuff. While B was gone for drinks, Stevie asked me how I happened to meet Barry. So I told him about it. the pub crawl and goodbyes )


All was calm now. Aunt Tudi had gone back upstairs and I hopped online to declare that I lived still, much to the dismay of many. While I was doing this, [livejournal.com profile] falkenna came in and sang me the song that she performed at Stevie and Nick's wedding. This ended a most eventful day perfectly. There was much peace in her voice and peace was what permeated us and the house as a whole. My soul was smiling. It still is.

Travel Journal 10 will be about London.
tinhuvielartanis: (Dark Eyes)
there will be tours – always there are tours – and we will go as far as we possibly can, and take you with us if you want. Till the batteries conk out; till we overflow and until Shriekback says ‘Fed up with that, do something else.’ This is the way we feed the fire; feed ourselves; get sperm everywhere; bury our dead; contact the living; come the heavy statement; maxima incendare; to the elbow and beyond; Shriek without end.

After a few minutes of ingesting magickal nerve-calming/numbing Champagne, the conversation began to pick up. conversation )


More on the Southern thing.... Over the years of listening to Shriekback and B's solo material, there was one thing of which I was undeniably certain: Barry Andrews had a fascination with Southern religious traditions and, in particular, Gospel music. You can hear it in "Sticky Jazz," "Runnomore," "A Kind of Fascination," "Contract Song," and more recently, "My New Religion." For godssake, the Temple of the Holy Swarm and its various samples of testimony drip with the honey of Southern Gospel! I'd mentioned it to [livejournal.com profile] falkenna just a few days before while we were zipping to Bristol and listening to music on Orpheus and iGor. So it came as no surprise when B piped up and said he'd always wanted to go to some Southern churches and soak up a big load of Gospel music. When I told him he was more than welcome to come over and we'd do just that, he grinned really big. And, when B grins, his entire head turns into a giant smile. You have to grin along with him. There's no escaping.

Food, Music, and a Need for the Ocean )

It wasn't long after the strawberries were finished that Barry expressed a desire to walk on the ocean. The weather was a bit misty and chilly, so there was question as to whether or not we should. I was game, 'cos I love weather like that. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna brought out some coats for everyone, I put on my sweater, and B put on the "333 I'm only half evil" tee shirt I gave him underneath the tee he already had on. All bundled up, we piled into Nick and Stevie's car and headed off to the beach.

(More to come.....)
tinhuvielartanis: (Dark Eyes)
The day with Barry, Stevie, Nick, and Graham will have to be broken down in more than one post. I'm having issues with trying to write it all down and have pretty much run out of time to do it all tonight. There will be more tomorrow, of course.

Tuesday 16 May ~ Face to Face with Barry Andrews

I didn't sleep well the night before. The one nerve afforded me after having left The Pit was niggling and twitching so viciously, I could barely stand myself. My psyche was awash in anxiety, abject fear, and disbelief. I literally could not wrap my mind around the fact that I was about to meet the man who had so affected, inspired, and terrified me over the past sixteen years. I seemed incapable of making the jump from Aunt Tudi saying to me one morning, "I got a video you may be interested in. There's a blue guy in a toga in it" to [livejournal.com profile] falkenna saying "Stevie, Nick, and Barry should be arriving around 3 this afternoon."

making preparation for the whipcrack time )


[livejournal.com profile] falkenna had about thirty minutes to relax when she got a phone call. It was Barry Andrews on the phone, letting her know that they were in Brighton and just a few minutes away, should they grab a bite before coming on or was she providing food? She told him to come on, that there was plenty to eat at the house. We were down to a bare few minutes now. I began to pace, fidget, and essentially behave like a half-mad bear in a poorly-maintained inner city zoo.

Aunt Tudi came down so she could meet and greet with our esteemed guests. She didn't have to wait for very long. Shortly after 3 PM, there came a knock at the door. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna answered it and in walked Stevie, Nick, and....Barry Andrews. My panic level went into meltdown and I became utterly still inside. It was like tharn at the speed of light. Miss "I'm all business and run a website for this person" kicked in and I extended my hand in formal greeting. He took it and pulled me to him to hug me.

your ridiculous fears, I know how to allay them )

A toast was made, but I can't remember what it was or who made it. By then I was pretty much in shock, so I'm still remembering moments about this day a week later. Anyway, flutes were clinked together and drinking ensued. And, verily, it was good.
tinhuvielartanis: (Union Jack Sexy)
Sunday 14 May

Surprisingly, I was the first adult up Sunday morning. Eleri, being a kid, got up quite early and was enjoying TV when I walked into the living room. She said that [livejournal.com profile] falkenna had been up earlier, but went back to bed. So I won by default, like it was ever a competition in the first place, but whatever.

The initial plan for this day was for us to head out a little early and go to Bath for the day. but did we go? )


Monday 15 May
Monday went exactly as planned. [livejournal.com profile] falkenna prepared another delicious English country breakfast, replete with sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. I want to miniaturise myself and just camp out on a plate full of English breakfast food. I’d live in a tee-pee and come out occasionally to nibble at the end of a sausage and roll around in the grease.

the goings-on of the day )

After stuffing ourselves like Christmas geese, Aunt Tudi, [livejournal.com profile] falkenna, and I wibbled back to the house where I once again engaged in an overabundance of Barry Angst until I finally passed out. When I woke up, it would be Tuesday, the Day I Met the Bald One.

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The Cliffs of Insanity

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